


Green Suits

by bubblyNightmare



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bro Strider Is Not a Good Bro, Humanstuck, Mafia shit, Multi, Polyamory, Smuppets, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblyNightmare/pseuds/bubblyNightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave is taken in by The Felt after a fall out with his bro. Shenanigans issue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Suits

**Author's Note:**

> There's an icredible lack of Felt! Dave here so I thought I'd give it a hand. Anyway this is my first published Homestuck fic so please be kind. Not beta-ed.

A shove. That’s all it had taken him. A shove, a smirk and years of eating shitty food, trying to fight back puppet ass with some shitty sword, feeling generally shitty about himself and his fucking shitty life. Yeah, that was all it had taken Dave to give his Bro the finger and some choice of curse words a fifteen year old had every right to know.

Of course that meant Dave had no roof to live under now. Bro had given him time to gather his things, but he was still banished from the apartment. It was time Dave learned some respect, and there’s no better teacher than the streets. Or so said Bro when slamming the door on his face. Dave suspected he just wanted to rent his room for a good load of cash, but what the hell he was still homeless. He, Dave Strider, was a homeless teenager armed with nothing but a red backpack and his trademark ironic shades.

He adjusted his mood on pesterchum to rancorous just to show one timaeusTestified he was still pissed – even if he knew it would only draw a turn of lips out of his asshole brother – and set himself to finding a place to stay. He didn’t have enough money to buy plane tickets and Dave didn’t want to see his friends reactions when they found out what happened to him. Jade would pity him, Rose would be smug and John was unpredictable, so maybe he’d laugh or just stare at him dumbly. Who knew with him.

So crashing at their house until the dust settled was not an option. Nor was coming back to the apartment asking for forgiveness. He would never give Bro the satisfaction. Dave stared at the iPhone in his hand. He could sell it, but that’d mean cutting off the only friends he had for a few hundred bucks. Dave unlocked it instead. A familiar face greeted him. He’d put one of his ironic selfies as his background picture for shit and giggles, but it had slowly become some sort of emotional comfort to him. Whenever things got too much he’d unlock his phone and stare at the light-hearted picture of a much happier Dave and reassure himself he could go back to that.

Now, as he gazed at himself pretending to be one of Jack’s French girls, he sighed and opened Safari. Craigslist it was. Or it would be, if he didn’t crash against what seemed to be either a high scale gang or Frank Sinatra impersonators with colorful hats and green suits. Either way half of them looked stupid, while the other half looked ready to kill, not counting the intersection where moron meets dangerous and every shit hits the fan at double velocity.

Dave instinctively reached for his strife specibus, only to wince as his hands came out empty. Bro took away his sword, looking rather offended that he’d call it shitty. So what if it was a little rusty? It sure would prove itself useful in battle or in situations such as this one. This situation where Dave crashes with what he is sure to be some sort of magical mafia and doesn’t apologize. And the worst part? The little guy in the purple hat followed Dave’s every movement and raised his eyebrows when Dave thrusted his air sword. Shit. He was so, so dead. Hat Number Four would rat him out and then they’d kill him and throw him into the Texan desert near some road to be found by a couple of drunk teenagers looking for a making out place. Well they could make out with his dead corpse for all he cared. At least he died beautiful and free.

Wait. Did angel faced, gangster toddler wink at him? And made a zipping motion over his lips? Would Dave’s lips be untouched by his own coughed out blood? He didn’t know. He looked around him. Finally he showed the world and the criminal crowd’s expectant faces some sort of reaction beyond a gaping mouth and scrunched eyebrow.

“Shit”

It was as if time was holding up life for that word. Suddenly he could again hear the city, the honking of cars and neighboring jugalloes. He heard a sigh above his head. It was the broad shouldered guy with a dark red hat, green suit and a crowbar. Dave was so dead. It didn’t matter what Little Purple thought. His grave was already dug not two hours after Bro left him for the dogs.

“Shiiiiit”

“Kid, we’re busy. Ain’t got time to kill you tonight. Now go home play doll or whatever is it you kids do today”

So Dave is not dead, or about to be, or at least not by the apparently not that pissed out mobsters. Good. Dave is about to apologize profusely, or make a run for it, whatever comes first, when he hears a low murmur that stops him right on his tracks.

“… Did you say doll?”

It is a rather tall man that speaks. His face is one of shock or maybe it’s just the way his eyes keep bugging out of their sockets. Anyway Number Seven doesn’t look surprised at him speaking out, though he is obviously frustrated.

“Goddamn it, Die I ain’t talking to you moron”

Die – what kind of fucking name is that? – only blinks at him, no other apparent change in his expression. Obviously Number Seven knows him better because his eyes are suddenly rolling and he’s talking in a stern voice.

“No, don’t give me that face. I don’t got the patience to deal with your sass today”

“…”

“I’m serious, Die. One more strike and it’s Crowbar Time for you”

This seemed to get his attention, and Die blinked once more before taking a step back and mixing with the other green suits of his comrades. After dealing with his companion with an obvious threat of violence, Number Seven turned to Dave and raises an eyebrow at his presence.

“Still here, kid? I thought you’d left hours ago”

Dave, who had time to recollect himself during the Die’s and Number Seven’s little exchange, merely shrugged.

“Don’t got nowhere to go. Bro kicked me out of the apartment.”

Dave expected nothing of the group, simply wanting to boast his forced freedom. What he didn’t expect was the little gasp from Number Four, the way Number One started rubbing his hands nervously or the resigned grunt from hard-boiled Number Seven. And when he heard the words that followed it, he knew his head was damaged from all the ass kicking dealt to him by Bro.

“So I guess you have to come with us, eh kid?”

“Wait, what?”

**Author's Note:**

> Accents are hard. I'm not even sure if what I did was accents or poor grammar. English is not my first language so any constructive criticism is welcome and I'll try to correct it when I get the chance.


End file.
